One of the most promising developments in higher education today is the rise of civic-education colleges within public universities, particularly in red states. Notable examples include the School of Civic and Economic Thought and Leadership at Arizona State University, the Salmon P. Chase Center for Civics, Culture, and Society at Ohio State, the Institute of American Civics at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville, and the School of Civic Life and Leadership at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Many of these public initiatives have taken their inspiration from a private one: Princeton’s James Madison Program in American Ideals and Institutions. These new American institutions aim to fill a critical void in university life.
These schools have two foundational premises. First, traditional public universities have fallen short in preparing students to assume leadership roles in a pluralist democracy. To be an effective leader, one must understand and mediate between diverse perspectives—a skill set sorely lacking in many of today’s graduates. Second, schools have failed in this mission in part because faculties represent only a narrow range of intellectual viewpoints. Most universities are ideologically homogeneous, making them ill-equipped to nurture the kind of democratic wisdom essential for societal cohesion. These new institutions address both deficiencies.
To succeed, these civic-education schools need to cultivate a distinctive faculty. The professors must be every bit as rigorous as their peers, while also being steeped in study of the great moral, political, and religious questions that have challenged humanity throughout history. Such knowledge enables them not only to inspire students to strive for greatness but also to instill in them the humility that comes from seeing how even the world’s greatest minds have struggled to find answers to central questions.
The schools have a rich pool of talent from which to draw. At many universities, including my own (Northwestern), humanities and social science departments focus on hiring scholars who approach the issues from the now-fashionable perspectives of gender, race, and colonialism. Scholars who immerse themselves in more timeless questions are at a profound disadvantage in the academic job market.
These new civic-education innovations have not gone unchallenged. Faculty members at their universities often criticize the programs as redundant and accuse them of creating a “safe space for conservatives.” This criticism attempts to turn the tables on conservative complaints about universities coddling students.
My own experience participating in one of these new institutions underscores the flimsiness of such objections. The School of Civic Life and Leadership at UNC–Chapel Hill invited me to participate in a September symposium titled “Is Democracy on the Ballot?” I discussed the risks to the rule of law posed by Kamala Harris, while a University of Michigan law professor examined the same question as regards Donald Trump. Unlike many other college events, there were no disruptions by unruly protesters. The only disturbance was a hurricane warning that interrupted my remarks for half an hour, forcing us to continue the discussion in a crowded basement room.
The symposium was a model of balanced discourse, with equal representation from liberal (in the American sense of the word) speakers and conservative, or at least anti-liberal, speakers (in that same sense). We not only gave speeches but challenged one another’s arguments and premises. The student questions reflected the full ideological spectrum and were polite yet probing. Far from being a “safe space for conservatives,” the event was designed to foster civil disagreement and the exchange of diverse viewpoints.
In contrast, my own law school at Northwestern has used funds from a well-intentioned donor, meant to encourage “activities and events focusing on public debate and respectful discourse” and to “provide a forum for compelling, bipartisan dialogue,” to entrench ideological uniformity. This fall, the school has organized a series of election-oriented events that effectively exclude dissenting views. For instance, a discussion on the candidates’ tax policies featured two liberal tax professors and no conservative voices for balance. A panel on abortion rights seems set to be even more one-sided, featuring two prominent pro-choice speakers. Even the panel on the election itself was skewed, featuring Paul Begala, a staunch Democrat, and Michael Steele, a Republican but ardent supporter of Kamala Harris. The inclusion of Steele as the “Republican” voice only served to reinforce the message that Trump supporters are beyond the pale, not just in Democratic circles but even within supposedly respectable quarters of the Republican Party. Every moderator for these panels has been a liberal.
Some might argue that these panels are intended to analyze, not advocate. But during an election season, the line between analysis and advocacy becomes blurry. Even the major news networks strive for at least the appearance of ideological balance in their commentary.
The broader lesson is clear: many universities today cannot be trusted to cultivate respectful debate because their orthodoxy stifles it. Donors and trustees should wake up, as state legislators have done, and recognize the damage that ideological uniformity does to the epistemic openness of university life. Autonomous institutions like the School of Civic Life and Leadership at UNC–Chapel Hill are crucial to building the intellectual infrastructure necessary for healthy democratic discourse. Without them, the marketplace of ideas on campuses will remain closed.
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